<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Iron Boy by Havoka</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28966311">Iron Boy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Havoka/pseuds/Havoka'>Havoka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Borderlands (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(eventually) - Freeform, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, he/him lesbian Moze, rejoice! dysphoria be upon ye, transmasc Moze</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:07:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,499</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28966311</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Havoka/pseuds/Havoka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"So what’re your pronouns, mate?"</p>
<p>The question had been asked so simply, so casually. It should have been answered in kind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Born For This</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just spillin' some thoughts about one of my favorite Vault Hunters. I've already got a couple more short chapters drafted to eventually add to this, where Moze will interact with Lorelei and some other characters.</p>
<p>Pronouns start with she/her but will eventually change by the end of the fic.</p>
<p>Thanks for reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> So what’re your pronouns, mate? </em> </p><p>The question had been asked so simply, so casually. It should have been answered in kind.  </p><p>Despite being given a rather generously-sized room with a cot just her size, on bad days Moze still preferred to sleep inside Iron Bear. Curled up inside the cage of steel that had saved her life a hundred times, she felt as close to safe as she ever could. It was far from a comfortable bed, but sometimes comfort came in forms other than soft sheets and a cozy blanket.  </p><p>Within Iron Bear, memories surrounded her. Not only in spirit, but physically, too–the interior of her mech was filled with photographs, papers, and printouts of old text conversations with her squadmates. There were also a bunch of balled-up gum wads stuck to the inner wall, one for each victorious fight. Which was, admittedly, kind of nasty. Moze figured she was allowed one gross battle ritual. The guys had always had grosser ones. </p><p>Inside Iron Bear, she was home. It was the single constant in her life. Friends came and went, relationships had never really worked out. But Iron Bear? He was forever. </p><p>Not even Iron Bear’s cold embrace could protect her from her thoughts, though. No, those were her greatest enemy. </p><p><em> My pronouns? </em>Could that lady–Lorelei, was it?–not tell Moze was a woman? Granted, she had never been the most feminine girl, or felt all that connected to womanhood in general, but she was still a woman.  </p><p>Lorelei’s question had been answered with a somewhat incredulous<em> Um, she...? </em>At least, it was supposed to sound incredulous. It came out more like Moze wasn’t certain. Lorelei had cocked a brow at the response, but didn’t press. Instead she simply said <em>Most people use she/her for me, too, but I answer to </em><em>anythin'</em><em>. </em></p><p>Sexuality had never been a particularly difficult concept for Moze to grasp. She knew basically from the onset of puberty that she was into girls, which was...whatever. Nobody looked twice at her shrimpy ass. She disappeared in crowds, and even at school no one noticed her. It was equal parts curse and blessing, since at least no one started any shit with her, either. The only friends she had were the other military brats, all training alongside her to join the same factions their parents had fought in. For Moze, that was the Vladof Ursa Corps. One of her first memories was of sleeping curled up around an Iron Bear plushie Vladof had commissioned for all the kids of Ursa Corps gunners.  </p><p>Her life was predetermined from birth. She would join the Ursa Corps. She would fight and bring glory to Vladof’s name. Then she would be honorably discharged, and would go on to marry and give birth to the next generation of Ursa Corps gunners, with Iron Bear crib plushies of their own.  </p><p>The thought of the last part always made her inexplicably queasy.  </p><p>Apparently wanting to keep your mech was, to put it lightly, frowned upon. So thankfully she didn’t have to contribute any babies to the cause–Vladof decided it’d be cheaper just to kill her.  </p><p>Leaning her head back against the greasy old headrest, Moze’s eyes swept across the photos tacked up in the cockpit. Front and center was the selfie her squad had taken right before Darzaran Bay. Moze couldn’t have cared less about being in pictures, but Talya had always insisted on taking one before every fight. Talya was just a kid–they all were. Led into battle by their Gunner First Class, they saw each battle as little more than an opportunity for gloating and glory. Moze had watched far too many greenies get ripped apart to get too invested in any of them anymore. But what happened to the kids at Darzaran...it was beyond horrifying. It was haunting. </p><p>An older picture, partially covered by the pre-Darzaran group shot, hearkened back to her early days of training. Three privates she barely remembered were clustered around her in the mess hall as Moze absolutely demolished an entire fried craw worm. Her appetite was her claim to fame back then–no one could believe such a tiny chick could have such a voracious appetite. The only reason she’d backed off on the food gorging was when she eventually noticed her hips and butt starting to fill out–a discovery that filled her with an irrational dread. Since that day, she’d committed herself to working out double, maintaining a scrawny, shapeless figure no different from her male squadmates.  </p><p>Hm. Maybe that explained Lorelei’s asking of her pronouns. </p><p>The question was simple, and the answer was simple–so why was it wedged in Moze’s brain? Being a military woman was her whole thing. She was a kickass army chick, fighting alongside the guys and the girls without distinction. Yeah, maybe she wasn’t crazy about a lot of the things that came packaged with womanhood, but that was, like, a societal thing, wasn’t it? Not a<em> Moze </em>problem.  </p><p>Iron Bear had no gender, but Moze referred to it as a “he”. She wasn’t entirely sure why–it just felt right. She remembered vividly the pride she took in piloting such a masculine machine as a woman, like she was operating simultaneously in the worlds of male and female. In the confines of Iron Bear, gender didn’t matter. All that mattered was the mission. </p><p>...At least until the mission was over, leaving Moze with all of her–<em> shudder </em>–thoughts.  </p><p><em> What the hell else would people call me if not a ‘she’? ‘Him’?  </em> </p><p>With that thought came an almost imperceptible flutter in her stomach. Moze made a fist and punched her gut. Nope, not a burp. <em>Weird. </em> </p><p>Whatever. The issue could wait until morning. Not that it <em>was </em>an issue, because Moze knew her gender and her pronouns, and it wasn’t like any of it really mattered, anyway. The only thing that mattered was the mission at hand. Just like always. </p><p>Watched over by her eternally smiling squadmates, Moze curled up in Iron Bear’s cockpit and forced herself to rest. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Getting Your Egg Cracked at a Coffee Shop</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Completing the mission was always the worst part. It meant no more distractions. </p><p>The mood at Sanctuary was a weird mix of celebratory and somber following the downfall of the Calypsos. The Raiders had won, but at a huge cost. Well, huge to them, anyway. Moze knew all too well the sacrifices of war. </p><p>Without those flashy chucklefuck twins in her face, Moze found herself with nothing but time to think. She tried helping out the locals with errands, even making some trips back to the other planets they’d visited to see if anybody there required her services. Some did, and she was thankful for them. But eventually, like any resource, her supply of people-in-need-of-a-fifteen-ton-mech-and-his-pilot ran largely dry.  </p><p>Long after wrapping up business on Promethea, Moze found herself back there anyway. The war with Maliwan had done a number on the planet, but its people were resilient, and they were slowly rebuilding. One might almost think it was business as usual at the Rise and Grind. The counter was swarmed with patrons awaiting the fruits of Barista Bot’s agonizingly-slow labor, and the sharp aroma of black coffee spilled well into the street.  </p><p><em> It’s way too busy here. She won’t have time to talk. </em> Moze’s shoulders drooped as she hung back, blending into the crowd. <em>I should just- </em></p><p>“Oh, hey!” The voice was too distinct not to recognize. Moze’s chin snapped up. Lorelei was in the middle of handing a drink to someone, but she had picked Moze right out of the crowd. Moze suddenly found herself feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious, tugging the strap of her backwards cap down lower on her forehead as she tried to swagger up to the counter. </p><p>“Uh, hey.” She leaned an arm down on the counter, but quickly realized it only further detracted from her already-puny height. Lorelei smirked as Moze straightened back up and cleared her throat. “When do you get off work?” </p><p>The bluntness encouraged by the military always seemed to fail spectacularly in any other situation. “Wow, tha’s awfully bold of you to ask.” Lorelei turned back toward the coffee grinder. “What’s it been, six months since you came through here last?”  </p><p>“I’m not asking you on a date.” She had to practically shout over the bustle of caffeine-addicted customers. A few nearby turned to glance at her. Moze felt her cheeks warm. “I just–I was hoping to talk to you. I guess.” </p><p>“Well I would<em> hope </em>you’re not askin’ me on a date. You’re not really my type, and I suspect I’m not yours, either.” When she turned around again, she still wore a tiny smile. “I’m off in a little bit.” Something Moze had not intended must have come across in her expression, for Lorelei then added, “Everythin’ all right?” </p><p>“All good.” The answer was mechanical, automatic. “I’ll, uh, just wait until you’re done, then.” </p><p>“No, you’re not sittin’ here until I’m off. Make me bloody nervous.” Lorelei turned to the robot beside her, her uneven hair bouncing over one eye. “Barista Bot, can you handle this? I gotta duck out for a bit.” </p><p>“I mean, I guess?” The bot’s groaning, sarcastic default tone matched its words perfectly. “Doesn’t matter to<em> me </em>how long these people have to wait.” </p><p>“I won’t be gone long, ya whiner.” Pulling off her stained black apron, Lorelei tossed it into a basket full of other dirty aprons before heading out and around the counter to meet Moze.  </p><p>Lorelei was not particularly tall, but Moze’s height put her right at Lorelei’s cleavage level. She looked respectfully away, wondering idly how someone could be so okay with displaying their chest like that. Moze had never liked <em>anyone</em> looking at her tits. </p><p>“So what’s up?” Lorelei lead her to a table away from the counter. There was clear confidence in the way she sat herself down, spreading her legs on the bench seat and leaning one elbow on the back rest. Moze tried to emulate that confidence, sliding herself onto the opposite bench and resting her elbows on the table.  </p><p>There was probably a better way to open such a delicate conversation, but Moze was not a delicate person. She launched with “Why did you ask me my pronouns when we first met?” </p><p>Of all the topics Lorelei had probably considered for this sudden conversation, that was not likely to be one of them. And yet, the moment the question was out of Moze’s mouth, Lorelei’s posture eased. She lay an arm on the table and leaned forward just a bit, a much softer pose than before. Moze kept her elbows perched on the table and her spine as straight as she could manage. </p><p>“Somethin’ I ask everyone,” she replied. “Did it bother you?” </p><p>“No. Of course not.” She settled her hands on the table, determined not to fidget or squirm. “It’s just...can’t you tell by looking at me? I’m a woman.” </p><p>“Looks can be deceiving, mate. Never hurts to ask.” Now Lorelei was pulling up straighter too, a defensive stance. “Did you really travel across the galaxy just to say that to me?” </p><p>The conversation was at a crossroads. Either she said yes, a response that would clearly offend Lorelei, or she dredged up her true feelings on the subject. Both options were terrible. </p><p>“Look-” The word was spoken too harshly. Lorelei narrowed her eyes. “Lorelei, I–I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just...” Her feelings welled like bile in her throat. “I’ve been...thinking about it. That’s all.” </p><p>The evasive non-answer changed Lorelei’s demeanor completely. “Oh?” It seemed she wanted to say more, but she instead folded her arms and simply waited for Moze to continue. </p><p>“I mean...I don’t know.” Moze was suddenly feeling a bit sweaty. Okay,<em> very </em>sweaty. Thank God her leather jacket would hide her inevitable pit stains. “No one’s ever asked me that before. I thought pronouns were just something you got, like, assigned. And that was it.” </p><p>“Oh hell no. Nobody chooses your pronouns but<em> you</em>.” </p><p>“I don’t think I’m a guy, though. I’m okay with being a woman.” The words came out as hollow as they felt. But Moze stuck to it.  </p><p>“Doesn’t change a thing, mate. You can be whatever gender and have whatever pronouns. Doesn’t matter worth a damn what people <em>think </em>you should be.” Lorelei’s eyes gleamed as they searched Moze’s face. “Oh man, am I helping you crack your egg?? That’s so excitin’!” </p><p>“Uhh...my egg?”  </p><p>“S’what we call it when someone realizes they’re not cis.” </p><p>“I’m...” The protest died before it even made it out of her mouth. </p><p>“Sorry, I’m gettin’ ahead of myself here.” Lorelei waved a hand, dismissing the topic. “Just excited at the possibility of helpin’ someone out with that. I never got any real guidance when it was me.” </p><p>Moze tilted her head. “You’re not cis?” </p><p>“Nah. I’m-well, I guess I’m technically transmasc, though I’m going by ‘nonbinary’ at the moment.” She made a side-to-side sweep with her hand. “My gender’s kinda fucky on the best of days, to be quite honest.” </p><p>“Oh.” She barely even understood what Lorelei was saying, but the basic gist came through. “I thought it was like, either you’re a man or a woman. Even if you’re trans or whatever.” She felt like she was back in basic training, a teenager who knew nothing. </p><p>“Hell no. God, this conversation is gonna take<em> way </em>longer than a 15-minute break.” Lorelei whipped around to face the Rise and Grind counter. “Barista Bot, I think I’m gonna need a little more time.” </p><p>“No, it’s fine. I don’t need to talk about it. I don’t really<em> want </em>to talk about it.” Moze got up from the table, though she did not walk away. </p><p>“That’s fair. It can get messy for sure.” When Lorelei stood up, she was looking Moze over with fondness in her eyes. “But if you ever<em> do</em> want to talk about it, you have my ECHO code, right?” </p><p>“Uh...yeah. Somewhere.”  </p><p>Moments later Lorelei was scribbling on a napkin and pushing it into Moze’s hands. </p><p>“Call me anytime, mate.” After a look over at the discontented customer crowd, she added, “...Just preferably not while I’m at work.” </p><p>“Right. Won’t happen again.” </p><p>The smile on Lorelei’s lips told Moze she didn’t truly mind. She gave Moze a light clap on the back as she headed for the counter again, picking her dingy apron back up to tie around her neck and waist once more. </p><p>She wasn’t sure she’d had any expectations to begin with, but their conversation certainly didn’t go in any way Moze might have envisioned. And yet, Moze felt...oddly pleased with it. Lorelei didn’t need a drawn-out explanation of Moze’s feelings. She cut right to the meat of the matter within a couple of sentences. </p><p>Maybe it was time to do some of that dreaded thinking she always avoided. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Quest for Validation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All the thinking in the world was nothing compared to The Real Deal. Which, that fateful day, came in the form of a companion Moze decided would understand.  </p><p>FL4K was extremely meticulous with the feeding times for their pets, which meant they were always in the same part of Sanctuary at the same time every day. This day was no different. Several bowls were lined up in a perfect row on the floor of the ship’s central hub, each filled with a different kind of food ranging from pellets to squirming grubs.  </p><p>If FL4K was surprised to see Moze lingering by those bowls that particular day, they didn’t express such a sentiment. Instead they stomped by her with their usual diligence, followed closely by an array of beasts. “Here you are,” they said in that deep, mechanized voice of theirs, stepping aside to let their pets at their bowls. “Feed.” </p><p>“Hey, man–” Moze hesitated as FL4K met her gaze with that single LED eye of theirs. “Uh, I mean...” Speaking in masculine terminology was her go-to for everyone, including herself. FL4K never failed to remind her that they were neither man nor woman, and that her gendered slang made no sense in application. “FL4K. If I were to ask you to do something really weird, and then never, ever talk about it again, would you be down for it?” </p><p>“A bizarre request. I cannot commit to a response until I am given more details.” </p><p>Double-checking to make sure no one was around, Moze knitted her fingers together. “Would you be willing to call me a ‘he’? Just so I can see how it feels?” </p><p>FL4K’s unreadable face was unsettling at the best of times. Now it left her with no idea how they were going to respond. </p><p>“Maybe you could just, like...” Her voice faltered, dropping in volume. “’Oh yeah, Moze, he’s a really cool guy. Well not a guy, but like, a cool Vault Hunter. And he’s got lots of style. And the ladies love him. Something like that.” </p><p>FL4K stared at her for a long time. Then, in a tone entirely deadpan, they said, “Yes, Moze. He is a really cool guy. Not a guy. A cool Vault Hunter. He has lots of style. And ladies love him.” </p><p>Her stomach fluttered again. <em>Wow.</em> “Do you...think that suits me?” </p><p>“Humans’ gendered pronouns are largely incomprehensible to me.” </p><p>So FL4K could voice Moze’s requested pronouns, but could not weigh in on if they suited her or not. For that, she’d need human input. </p><p>Still though, the tingling in her stomach was real. “Huh. Thanks, FL4K.” </p><p>“I am uncertain what I actually accomplished, but you’re welcome.” </p><p>Humans understood pronouns in a social context. But they could also pass judgment and reject her. Was there a human onboard this ship who could give her an honest opinion without potentially turning her into a social pariah? She was too nervous to talk to Amara about it, and Zane was unreliable at best. Telling Moxxi was as good as telling everyone on the ship, and Ava was way too young to get it. </p><p><em> Wait a minute.</em> There was <em>absolutely</em> a human on board who could give her honest feedback without fear of social rejection.  </p><p>After gobbling down some skag jerky and downing half a bottle of Rakk ale from the kitchen, Moze dragged her feet to Sanctuary’s upper level. </p><hr/><p>In the army, one was taught to keep pace. Keep rank. Fall in line. Movements, words, even thoughts were trained to a rigid rhythm, and to break that rhythm was to risk your entire squad breaking formation in battle, a death sentence. </p><p>The way Dr. Tannis moved, talked, and even just existed flew in the face of everything Moze had had drilled into her all those years. She was erratic and chaotic, unpredictable. Her behavior made Moze nervous for just that reason. She preferred conversations where she could be reasonably sure of what the person was going to say next. Talking to Tannis felt like reading dialogue written by a predictive text emulator. </p><p>When the infirmary door lifted into the ceiling, Tannis had her back turned. The door opened constantly when people walked by (side effect of the ship being designed by people with no spaceship design experience, to put it politely), so it made sense she might ignore it. But Moze had a feeling the doctor intentionally ignored entrants to her lab, anyway. </p><p>As Moze took a few more steps inside, she realized Tannis was talking to herself. No, wait–she was talking to the toothbrush propped in a cup on her desk. Of course.  </p><p>“No, no, you<em> must </em>have misplaced it. Ava specifically said she would <em>not </em>steal from my lab when I wasn’t around.” After a moment of silence, Tannis whipped her chair over to face the toothbrush. “Well I am more inclined to believe <em>her</em>, considering <em>you </em>lied about putting the toilet paper backwards on the roll. Who <em>does </em>that?!” </p><p>“Uh, hey Doc?” Moze was practically on top of her before Tannis finally turned around. </p><p>“Oh, hello...you.” Tannis made no attempt to hide her scant recognition of the Vault Hunter who had helped save her life just a few months prior. “Do you require something of me?” </p><p>“Yes.” Unlike most everyone else, Tannis actually appreciated and understood the art of getting right to the point. It was just about the only thing the two of them had in common. “I need your opinion about pronouns.” </p><p>“Oh, you can use any for me, I don’t care.” With a wave of her hand, she was already turning her chair back around. </p><p>“Not for <em>you.</em>” Moze reached out and turned the chair back around. Tannis raised her eyebrows, but did not protest. “For <em>me.</em>” </p><p>Tannis’ face scrunched. She briefly–very briefly–met Moze’s eyes. “I do not feel as though that’s something I could make a call on.” </p><p>With a sigh, Moze leaned against the desk housing Tannis’ array of illegible papers and empty coffee mugs. “Do you think it’d be weird if I asked people to use he/him for me, even though I don’t think I’m actually, like, a <em>guy? </em>” </p><p>Tannis was eyeing her paperwork. It was clear Moze was little but a distraction to her. “I find it equal parts baffling and amusing that you are asking <em>me </em>to be the judge of ‘weirdness’. How on earth should I know how the slack-jaws aboard this ship will perceive non-traditional relationships to gender? Most of them glaze over upon the use of a word with more than two syllables.” </p><p>“’Kay, look. Lemme explain.” Moze held her hands out in emphasis. Tannis’ eyes flicked from the right to the left in turn. “I’m kinda going through a thing here. It’s probably not a big deal, but I wanted to ask somebody who won’t treat me different afterward. I know you pretty much treat everyone with equal...” </p><p>“Apathy?” Tannis volunteered. “Disdain?” </p><p>“Yeah, those. So that’s why I’m asking you.” Moze drifted her hands down, emphasizing the entirety of herself. “Do you think I’d make a good he/him...whatever I am?” </p><p>Tapping her chin, Tannis eventually said, “As surprised as I am by your decision to recruit me as your pronoun advisor, I must admit I am flattered. So I will give you my honest opinion.” Her bright green eyes, so vivid with life and curiosity, searched Moze for another moment. “I was not entirely sure of your gender when I met you. I’m terrible at that sort of thing, anyway, but...” </p><p>“Wait. You couldn’t tell I was a woman?” </p><p>Tannis shrugged her leather-padded shoulders. “I pay very little attention to gendered markers and such. Or to people in general.” </p><p>“So you...” In spite of her bravado, talking about such delicate topics made Moze feel very, very small. “You think people would be cool with calling me a he? It’s kinda weird.” </p><p>“I’d certainly call you that. Easier than trying to remember your name.” The accompanying blank stare emphasized Tannis’ point. </p><p>Moze stared back. “It’s Moze.” </p><p>“Right. Of course.” </p><p>As much as the cyclical conversation had largely gone nowhere, it somehow made Moze feel better. At least one person on this ship didn’t give a damn what pronouns she used, and would respect whatever she chose. </p><p>“I appreciate this, Doc.” Moze was tempted to give her a good-natured whack on the back like Lorelei had done, but quickly rethought it. “I might change my mind, but, well, I might not.” </p><p>Tannis gave a sage nod. “It took me decades to really begin to know my own self. You’re young yet–it’ll come to you in time. And there’s nothing better than embracing yourself and your quirks!” Plucking her toothbrush out of its cup, she said, “Isn’t that right, Greb?” </p><p>The surprisingly maternal bit of consolation dismantled the last bits of wall Moze had erected around her vulnerabilities. Biting her lip, she dropped her gaze to the floor. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.” </p><p>“Anytime, Nose!” </p><p>She was buried in her paperwork again before Moze could bother to correct her. Apparently that was the end of the conversation. Moze slunk out of the lab, her head filled with more thoughts than ever–but for once, they were not entirely bad. </p><hr/><p>What little confidence Moze had worked up talking to FL4K and Tannis was obliterated the moment a certain<em> other </em>Crimson Raider sat down with her at the same dining hall table. Moze froze in place, the greasy meat of her sandwich sliding out onto her plate with a series of <em>plops. </em>She didn’t look up. She didn’t have to. The meticulously-moisturized deep brown arm lined with otherworldly blue tattoos that leaned down onto the table told her everything she needed to know. </p><p>“Ugh, greasy meat scraps again? You really need to start eating better.” Amara’s multiple arms set down six plates, filled with probably every food group. “Didn’t they teach you how to take care of yourself in the military?” </p><p>Uncertain how to respond, Moze took a big bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly. </p><p>Amara started in on the dish nearest to her, a hefty salad. “What’s the matter? Ratch got your tongue?” She laughed that teasing but good-natured chuckle of hers that made Moze’s heart rate increase. “I’m pretty sure they <em>do </em>eat tongues, actually.” </p><p>Amara was <em>not </em>someone Moze felt comfortable with. Not because she disliked her–in fact, it was entirely the opposite. She made Moze sweat a whole lot more than usual, and say things even dumber than usual. </p><p>“Oh, uh, yeah.” Moze attempted a laugh as boisterous as Amara’s. Her laugh was so small and thin compared to Amara’s deep, rich voice. “Sorry, just...really focused on my...sandwich.” </p><p>Most of the remaining meat had fallen out. Moze was basically eating grease-soaked bread. </p><p>Amara’s gaze flicked from the plate full of sandwich innards to Moze’s rapidly-pinkening cheeks. She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to. </p><p>For as boisterous as she could be, Amara kept many of her opinions close to the chest. Moze had literally no idea how she felt about gay stuff or gender stuff. She had no idea whether Amara herself was gay or trans or anything like that, either. Much as she<em> wished </em>she knew what Amara was into. </p><p>The tiny bites of bread she took slid down her throat like that deep-fried thresher tentacle she definitely had not grabbed off a food cart at Carnivora that time. Why did this have to be the time Amara suddenly took interest in her? Did she have some magic siren sense that told her when someone around her was in distress? </p><p>She wanted so badly to reach out. Amara was the closest thing she’d had to a “gal pal” in, well, ever, really. <em>Is that something we’d still consider ourselves? Or would I have to be something else? Amara’s...bro? </em>That felt weird, but then another thought crept shyly through her mind–she was nowhere near ready for dating, maybe never would be, but if she <em>did</em>...could she call herself someone’s boyfriend? That thought gave her those stomach flutters again. They didn’t feel like food poisoning or gas. They felt like when you managed to dig up a good memory amidst a sea of bad ones. </p><p>“I gotta go.” Moze informed Amara of her departure as she was already in the process of departing. Amara simply watched her, a frown on that gorgeous face of hers. Moze had never thought Amara cared–at least, not enough to hide her movie star smile behind a frown of concern. Yet there she was, not a trace of bold, cocky smile to be seen. </p><p>She thought about Lorelei’s offer to talk again, and of Tannis’ oddly supportive advice. Maybe more people cared about her than she thought. Maybe she didn’t have to be scared to show her vulnerabilities to the people around her.</p><p>Turning back around was about the hardest simple thing she’d ever done. “Okay, actually,” she said, trying for a voice that was strong and devoid of fear, “there <em>is </em>something I wanted to tell you.” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Moze Finally Starts to Get His Shit Together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Coming out didn’t end up the life-destroying disaster she’d feared it might. Most she told seemed like they couldn’t care less, with a few exceptions. Ellie grabbed her up in a massive hug and thanked her for entrusting her with that knowledge. Moxxi gave that wise little smile that said she’d known all along. </p>
<p>The hardest part, it turned out, was coming out to herself. Even after she’d told all of Sanctuary she wanted to be referred to with he/him pronouns, and they acknowledged that, in her heart she still felt tethered to “she” and “her”. It took a particularly momentous occasion to finally push her to respect her own chosen pronouns. </p>
<p>The first time it happened, it felt like a tickle of lightning had coursed down her spine. Casually, in passing, she overheard Amara talking with Zane. The topic of their conversation was unclear until Moze zeroed in on a single line.  </p>
<p>“Honestly, I don’t know how<em> either </em>of you are still alive, you with all that cheap booze and...him, with all that deep-fried rubbish.” </p>
<p>The “him” was hesitant, stumbled over for just the briefest of moments, but it was nonetheless carried through with. Moze felt her heart speed up, practically knocking her over with a sudden delirious, light-headed sensation. <em>Oh my God. She’s talking about me. </em></p>
<p>That moment of euphoria was when it truly sank in. Moze spent the next few days mentally practicing, readjusting, until finally crossing that glorious threshold.  </p>
<p>In his mind, Moze referred to himself as a “he”. That scampering heartbeat made a swift return. He’d never felt so excited to use a damn pronoun. </p>
<p>“I’m a he,” he whispered aloud while lying on his bedroom cot, eyeing his array of wall-mounted weaponry and poster of Tyreen he still had up for, uh, reasons. “Yeah, that Moze, he’s a real cool Vault Hunter. And all the ladies love him.” </p>
<p>Was this all it took to feel happy? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so...<em> not </em>like shooting himself in the head somewhere his mess would be convenient for people to clean up. Was this how most people felt when they were referred to by the correct pronouns? This shit was life-changing! </p>
<p>He–<em> wow, I can’t get over how that feels– </em> spent the rest of the evening alternating between lying on his bed and pacing the room. <em>Do I call myself a boy? I still want to be a lesbian. Can I be both? Is that what butch is? </em> </p>
<p>He wanted to ask Lorelei, but she probably couldn’t be bothered with this basic Gender 101 crap. And maybe a part of him was nervous of potential answers, too. "Lesbian” was the only identity label he had ever truly felt comfortable with.  </p>
<p><em> Don’t do this to me now, brain. Let me have my five damn minutes of happiness, okay? </em> </p>
<p>No sense stressing about labels right then. All Moze knew was that being called a him was really fucking awesome, and he was content to leave it at that for now. </p>
<p>The next few days were quiet, but not in a bad way. Moze still kept himself busy tinkering with Iron Bear and running errands on Sanctuary, but for once the dark, bad thoughts that forever loomed in the corners of his mind felt slightly less encroaching. He still woke up panting and sweating most mornings, his sleep wracked with visions of blood and gore and debris collapsing onto his squadmates as they squished like bugs before his eyes. But in the span of a week, he went from “I actively wish I was dead” to “I really don’t care if I live or die”, which was a marked improvement. </p>
<p>It seemed for a while that no one was going to actively address his change in pronouns. People just sort of went along without saying anything about it. Although maybe he should have been grateful for that, Moze instead found himself feeling a strange bit of longing. He <em>wanted </em>to talk about it. It gave him a rush, a sense of joy he couldn’t even rationalize. He had figured himself out (kinda)! For once in his entire life, he actually wanted to talk about his feelings. </p>
<p>As it turned out, apparently<em> one</em> person was willing to address it directly. </p>
<p>Moze was just about to sink his teeth into a smoked ratch leg when he somehow missed the food, clacking his teeth together instead. He was partway through a “What the fuck-” when he realized the hunk of meat was floating away from him. The realization was followed by a snicker somewhere nearby, and then two glowing blue eyes appearing in the shadows of the dim cafeteria.  </p>
<p>“Not very Commander-like behavior.” Moze reached across the table and grabbed the leg out of mid-air, chomping down on it before it could be stolen again. </p>
<p>Since gaining her powers, Ava had gone from an annoyance to a menace. If Moze had acted like her in his teenage years, he would have been belted. Still, he could see some of himself in the kid. She was a punk, sure, but even the most rebellious kids just needed some discipline and guidance. Just preferably not from a military branch that was going to try to murder you to avoid severance pay. </p>
<p>In her usual fashion, Ava did not provide any sort of useful answer. Instead she slinked over to the table and sat down opposite Moze. Her weird little pet, Hermes, jumped up onto the table beside her. Its otherworldly gaze swept over Moze, seeming to see so much more than any other creature in the room. </p>
<p>“So are you a guy now?” As usual, Ava skipped right over any sort of politeness or pleasantries. Like her pet, her neon blue eyes seemed to be perceiving Moze on a level no one else could.  </p>
<p>Moze took a big, juicy bite of his dinner. “Maybe. What’s it to you?” </p>
<p>Suddenly the ratch leg was floating out of his hand again. Ava took hold of it, then yanked a strip of fresh meat off with her teeth and chewed contentedly.  </p>
<p>“Why don’t you want to be a girl?” she asked through her mouthful.</p>
<p>Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Moze didn’t fight for his food back. Instead he leaned back and said, “I dunno. Why don’t you want to be a boy?” </p>
<p>He expected a bratty retort. Instead, Ava’s gaze fell to her tattooed left arm. “I don’t have a choice,” she said. </p>
<p><em> Oh.  </em>Far from the answer he had expected. “What, ‘cause you’re a siren? That didn’t stop that-” </p>
<p>“I don’t want to talk about him.” Ava gave the rest of Moze’s dinner to Hermes, who gobbled it down bone and all. “He was a freak. And I don’t want to be a boy, either.” </p>
<p>“Uh, okay. Then why are we having this conversation?” </p>
<p>Ava’s fingers curled and uncurled on the grimy table’s surface. “What made you just suddenly decide to start being a he? How did you know?” </p>
<p>Ava’s brash way would normally cause Moze to retreat further into his shell–but this was one topic he couldn’t bring himself to shy away from. And something in Ava’s tone struck him, too.  </p>
<p>With a shrug, he said, “I’ve always felt more comfortable with guy stuff. And when people call me a he, I like it. Pretty simple.” </p>
<p>That answer only seemed to frustrate Ava more. “So that’s it? It’s not, like...more complicated than that?” </p>
<p>“Why do you seem weirdly angry about it?”  </p>
<p>“Because you can’t - you can’t just go and decide stuff like that.” The girl’s thick blue eyebrows dropped as she scowled. “If you can just...change to whatever you want, then why hasn’t<em> everyone </em>changed?” </p>
<p>Moze quirked a brow. “I don’t know, maybe ‘cause most people are happy with their gender?”  </p>
<p>Ava made a little sound, like the beginning of a retort, but no such retort came. </p>
<p>Moze didn’t consider himself particularly adept at talking to kids, much less guiding them, but anyone who had been in his position could read the look on Ava’s face. Frustration. Confusion. Envy. </p>
<p>“Hey, kid,” Moze said, making a point of softening his voice a bit, “you aren’t having problems with gender stuff, are you?” </p>
<p>“No!” The answer was practically shouted across the table. Ava quickly collected herself, sitting back once more. “Sirens are women. It’s just...how things are.” </p>
<p>“They don’t have to be.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, they do. That’s why it’s called a Sisterhood.” </p>
<p>Moze turned his palms upward. “I mean, are some kinda siren police gonna show up and arrest you if you were to come out as not-a-woman?” </p>
<p>“No, that’s stupid.” Ava huffed. “The powers would probably transfer to someone else. And I-I'd lose the last connection I have to Maya.” </p>
<p>Siren stuff was completely foreign to Moze. After witnessing all the nonsense they seemed to bring about, he was <em>glad</em> he didn’t have powers. “You know, Ava...” He paused, touching a hand to his chin as he tried to think of how to word the advice he wanted to give. This was a lot different than talking to his greenies before a mission. “Whatever people are...they already are. Like, your gender doesn’t actually change. Some people just realize they haven’t been calling themselves the right thing.” </p>
<p>As expected, his advice prompted a blank stare from Ava. </p>
<p>“Like, whatever gender you are, you already are. <em>With </em>your powers.” He hoped his vague accompanying hand gestures would help the explanation, but it seemed only to add to Ava’s confusion. “...Okay, how about this–if you could pick any gender to be, hypothetically, what would ya choose?” </p>
<p>Ava folded her arms. “None, probably.” </p>
<p>“No gender?” </p>
<p>“Well, like, I don’t know.” Ava looked away, over at nothing in particular. “I don’t want to be a guy. But I don’t care about being a girl, either. I wanna be like FL4K.” </p>
<p>“FL4K’s nonbinary.”  </p>
<p>“Yeah, that.” </p>
<p>“So...you’re nonbinary?” </p>
<p>“What? No! You said <em>if</em> I could pick a gender.” </p>
<p>“Would you like it if somebody called you a they instead of a she?” </p>
<p>“I wouldn’t care. Because I don’t care.” Ava held out her arm to let Hermes climb up onto her shoulder. “This is stupid. I’m gonna go.” </p>
<p>“’Kay. See ya around, kid.” </p>
<p>Ava hustled off, far less mysterious than when she’d first appeared. </p>
<p>Nobody had ever had these kinds of talks with Moze when he was Ava’s age. If they had, well, it probably would have saved him a lot of years of confusion. Orrr maybe it would have made things worse. Who could say. </p>
<p>With his meal finished for him, Moze spent the rest of his time in the cafeteria people-watching. Most everyone here seemed pretty comfortable with themselves. They dressed how they wanted and went by whatever names they wanted. Probably whatever pronouns they wanted, too.  </p>
<p>It was nice to finally join those ranks.  </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>